Lily of the Valley
by LunaEquus
Summary: Gemma Doyle is nineteen years old, a new mother, and her marriage is falling apart. Will her relocation to America bring the fresh start she sorely needs, or will the trip there be enough? Bittersweet Karma. Complete.
1. Chapter 1

**New idea for a story, very loosely based on Victorian Romance Emma. Okay, the only similarity is the flower meaning. Enjoy!**

I wish I can say that the victory over Circe and the restoration of order in the realms also brought peace to my private life. It seems that the end of what appeared to be my rite of passage into womanhood brought not only maturity, but also a steady downward spiral of happiness. Whatever illusion of self confidence created by that victory was quickly shattered as I realized that just because I was powerful enough to rule a separate realm, I was no match for Grandmama's determination to make something of me in this one.

Things started looking down once Ann was whisked away to work for her cousins. Her absence created a rift between Felicity and me; plus we had no reason to visit the realms, no reason to get away from our stuffy lives. Her calling cards stopped coming, and I stopped writing them to her. We were drifting apart, living the lives our families told us to. What had once been a wonderful friendship was reduced to polite hellos and nods of recognition.

In fact, it was if my magical experience in the realms had never existed. I'd have believed it all a dream, if not for my continuing relationship with Kartik. We met secretly for nearly a year, sharing in deep conversations and even deeper kisses. I fell in love with Kartik, and we had even made plans to run away together, plans I was too afraid to follow through with.

If it had just been my love affair with Kartik to report on, then I could happily say that life was good, chipper even. But no one knew of the affair, and my grandmother was determined to increase the honor of the family name. Despite my wishes, I was betrothed to Simon Middleton again. Now instead of hovering at the border, the Doyle name would be fully accepted into the gentry, something my grandmother had strived for years to attain.

But despite the engagement and intense courting, I still continued to see Kartik, for he was my only happiness. He has always hated Simon, and tried to convince me to run away with him, so that we could be together. But I couldn't. The night before my wedding, Kartik left, taking my heart and my virginity with him.

For nine months after the wedding, Simon treated me like gold. He'd show me off as if I was a trophy, something he owned and was proud of. I'd smile and nod like a good wife, but I felt detached from him. He loved me, that much I knew, but he also cherished the idea that I carried his child. But I didn't even need to look at the child to know it wasn't his. It came as no surprise to me to see my daughter's dark hair and skin, and that though she had my eyes, her features resembled more her father's. There was no hiding it. Simon knew I had slept with another man.

I became the center of all the vicious gossip. Rumors spread of rape and other shameful subjects, for why else would my child have such dark skin? My grandmother weakly tried to say that we had Italian blood in the family, but she died shortly after the birth, and no one believed her anyway.

And that leads us to the present. Simon and I haven't shared a bed for three months now, ever since my daughter's birth. He refuses to look at me, though he does not treat me badly. However, it is a loveless marriage, under strain of more than just an affair and bastard child. Cruel gossip and revoked invitations have driven us to start anew, though I know our trip to America will bring more than just a change of scenery.

I have heard about Simon's intentions to leave me, an action crueler than outright anger. Divorce is unheard of, even in situations such as these. I know our marriage will be annulled, but that does not leave me free to marry again. I will be on my own, unable to marry, and without the support of my estranged husband. I can hardly imagine a life as a seamstress, and it is with bitter humor that I realize that I will end up as a spinster after all, just like I feared.

I step from the carriage, holding the sleeping bundle that is my daughter, my only lasting souvenir of the only man I will ever love, the only man that ever understood me. The steam ship is a sight to behold, great black smokestacks jutting into the blue sky. People bustle about on board, grabbing luggage and waving goodbye to loved ones. My throat swells, knowing that in just a few minutes I will be among the mass up there, waving goodbye to the country I couldn't wait to get to, and perhaps I will never see it again.

"Let's go," Simon says aloofly. He does not offer me his arm or even acknowledge that I am there beside him. I bow my head silently and follow him, too afraid to speak or do anything else to offend him, especially as I had already made a ruin of his life and reputation.

"Flower, miss?"

I look for the owner of the soft voice. It is a young peasant girl, standing meekly with a basket of flowers on her thin arm. She holds a sprig of little white, bell-shaped flowers to me. _Our Lady's tears – how appropriate. _I hand the girl a few shillings and take the flowers.

"Thank you, miss! Do you know what Lilies of the Valley stand for?"

"Gemma, come along!" Simon stands a few yards away, tapping his foot impatiently.

"No," I say softly to the girl. "What do they stand for?"

She smiles sweetly. "The return of happiness."

**Thoughts? This is a bittersweet story. I'm not really sure where I'm going with it, but it will continue. **

**There's this girl who writes too much fan fiction and her name is,  
LunaEquus**


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you so much for the reviews. They make my day!**

It is with a considerably lightened heart that I board the RMS Umbria, the great steamship that shall ferry my husband, daughter, and I across the pond to America. I don't know why the words of a peasant girl speaking the fictional meanings of flowers has cheered me so, but I do not fight the feeling. I smile and coo at my daughter, who has just awoken from the noise and bustle of the ship readying itself for voyage. Simon even takes my arm, for a happy wife is much more desirable to associate with than a glowering one.

For a moment, I cannot remember why I have been so down. There is an open sea and new life ahead.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" I say, smiling serenely at Simon. He considers the sunlight glimmering on the water and the seagulls dashing about puffy white clouds.

"Yes," he says softly, gazing at me in a way he hasn't in months. But then his eyes flicker down to my daughter and his face hardens. The brief moment of hope is gone, and reality once more sets in. This isn't a trip to start a new life together. It's a trip to a place far away enough to escape gossip, far away enough for Simon to leave me without fear of criticism.

All of a sudden this vast ship feels the size of a cigar box. I am trapped, unable to return to my disgraceful past, but also with nothing to look forward to other than more hardship. Simon has said nothing directly to me, but I know his intentions. This ship ride is nothing but one last appearance as husband and wife, one last charade in which I play a woman worthy of first class boarding.

"Gemma, come along," Simon says, breaking my reverie with his cold voice. I turn from the sight of the ocean, once twinkling with hope, now just an endless desert of fire for me to cross on my way down to Hell. Simon doesn't even bother to wait for me, and I bump into a man carrying luggage in my haste to catch up.

"Pardon me," I say, adjusting the swaddling cloth on my daughter.

"The fault is mine, madam," he answers apologetically, tipping his hat politely. I crane my head to locate Simon, who appears to have been swallowed up by the bustling passengers. It only takes a moment to realize the man I had disturbed hasn't moved.

"Excuse me," I say. "I seem to have -,"

"Gemma?" His voice is but a whisper, as if he is afraid to be heard.

When my eyes lock with his it is as if the hustle and bustle comes to a crashing halt. His eyes drift to the bundle of lace and linen that is our daughter, though he knows naught of it. This ship shudders into motion with a deafening blow of steam, disturbing our moment.

"There you are, Gemma. Hurry up now, you've already kept me waiting." Simon appears out of nowhere to grab my wrist. I cannot help one last look at Kartik. He looks from me to Simon and it is as if something within him breaks. I part my lips, instinctively wishing to reassure him, but I find I have nothing to say.

My single moment of hesitation rouses Simon's curiosity, though he usually does not give me the time of day. The moment he lays his eyes on Kartik, they narrow in recognition. Simon pulls me away sharply.

"What is the matter with you?" I whisper angrily, struggling to keep up with his long strides.

"You disgust me," he hisses in my ear.

* * *

"Just a bit – _more_, madam," Clara, my lady's maid says with labored breath as she tugs tightly at my corset strings. I brace myself against one of the posts of the large bed, but the familiar _heave-ho_ never comes. Instead, the door crashes open and Simon dismisses the maid hastily. 

"So," he says icily, taking Clara's place. "It's his, isn't it?" When I do not respond, Simon pulls the corset strings angrily. I yelp in pain at the force in which my torso is constricted. "Answer me, Gemma! Is it his?"

"Y-yes," I say shakily. I hate myself for admitting this, but I hate myself more for being ashamed of it. I love my daughter and I love her father, but Simon makes me hate myself for it.

Simon pulls again, harder than the first time, so that my knees buckle and it is all I can do not to show my weakness. "And isn't it a happy coincidence that he's on the ship," he says with venom. He ties my corset too tightly and turns me around roughly. "Don't even think about going to him again. I've marked your corset; I'll know."

He releases me and strides to the door. "I've booked a separate suite, Gemma. I do not wish to see you unless proper decorum calls for us to appear together. Dinner begins at seven."

In an odd way, I feel free. His actions prescribe that perhaps he will come out with the truth, for I know he cannot possibly wish to keep me as his wife. At least, once I know for certain my fate as an estranged wife, then I can at least start planning for it. I wonder vaguely how my old headmistress, Mrs. Nightwing, felt once she knew her husband had faked his death to marry another. I had felt terrible just hearing her story, but I had never once believed I might live my own edition of it.

I feel like crying, but now is hardly the time to indulge one's self in feelings. With Clara's help I finish dressing for dinner, and it is with great difficulty that I leave my daughter behind once Simon comes for me. I have not yet been able to let my daughter out of my sight for more than a few hours, and even then it pains me. Perhaps it is because she is my only link to Kartik, or perhaps because I know how Simon hates her so. Whatever the cause for it, I cannot shake my paranoia that something ill might happen to her, just because she was the result of one last night of passion before my love ran cold.

My daughter is my heart and soul, the only thing I've been able to drag myself out of bed every morning for. I am the only one who loves her, the only one that cares for her existence. Simon cannot understand my feelings. He once even offered to sweep everything under the rug if I would just give her up. It was with noble intentions and broken eye contact that he made this proposal, but instead of even considering, I let go of ever trying to mend our broken marriage.

"Do not embarrass me," Simon says softly as the doors open for us to enter the grand dining room. However, the murmur of gossip that follows us to our table already suggests otherwise.

**Oh, this is so sad to write. I'm trying to be historically accurate with this story, so yeah. Catch me if something doesn't seem right, but I am doing a fair share of research too. **

**I'm not trying to make Simon out to be a jerk. He's heartbroken. His wife had another man's child. I'd say that'd make a guy want to um, tug on some corset strings. But once again, let me know if it seems too out of hand.**

**Yes, men used to mark their wives' corsets back then,  
LunaEquus**

**(PS: Lilies of the Valley are actually the flowers associated with the Gemini sign. Gemma's a Gemini, and so am I! Bit of trivia for ya! Edited, because I messed up June and Gemini. The original thought still applies though.) **


	3. Chapter 3

**Meant to upload this yesterday, but I slept over my friend's house instead. Enjoy.**

Lately my life has seemed like an out of body experience. I feel detached from those around me, and numbed from their various ways to express dislike towards me. It is as if my body and soul are separate entities, one bound to Hell on earth and one floating above it all. This feeling plagues me most of the time, broken only by sleep and moments with my daughter.

It is true that I lost a part of myself when I married Simon; I also partly attribute the loss to Kartik's sudden departure from my life. The girl that was silly, reckless Gemma must have left with him, for this new woman, the wife of Simon Middleton, is not me. I have tried to love him, and part of me will always cherish the more tender moments between us, when he truly loved me, but they say your first love never leaves you, and I have always been a stubborn girl.

Kartik was wrong for me in so many ways, but he was right for me when it counted. He saw the real me, the unladylike, hot-tempered, I-am-not-a-morning person Gemma, and he fell in love with that. In a world where people care more for reputations and status, I managed to meet a man capable of knowing and loving qualities I dare not reveal to the public. Qualities that Simon thought he wanted to know, but didn't, really.

If there is one applicable thing I learned from my time in the realms, it is that there is no security in an illusion. My life is just that, an illusion. Behind my fluffy, kitten-shaped marriage is a monstrous lie. People are seeing the sharp teeth and glinting eyes of my adultery, and they have all but slapped a scarlet A on my chest for it.

Dinner is a dismal affair, rendered even worse by the hurt in Simon's eyes. He hears the whispers as I do, but he can do nothing but be the pitied husband of a whore, a once respectable man, tarnished by his wife's moment of weakness. I feel guilty, for he does not deserve this; if I could shoulder the full blame, I would. But I've brought him down with me. For what seems like the millionth time, guilt sears my stomach with all the could-haves and should-haves. I could have prevented this; I should have run away with Kartik. But even in my jaded conscience, I remember the fear and the uncharacteristic lack of bravery I had that night.

"I love you deeply," I told him. "But I cannot leave my family like this." I remember how my heart broke at the sight of his tears falling freely upon the sweat-soaked sheets when he called me a coward and refused to look at me when he disappeared through my window for the last time.

"Will you be joining us for sherry, Mrs. Middleton?"

Mrs. Middleton. My name. I look up, distracted from my train of thought. The other ladies at the table look at me in hawk-like interest. Dinner is over and the men are just standing to retire for cigars and brandy. Simon looks down at me and shakes his head in disapproval. Without waiting for my answer, to see if he needs to escort me out of the dining room, he leaves. I shall die from this embarrassment.

I stand, swaying slightly on my high heeled shoes. "No thank you," I say. "I'm…tired." I leave quickly to save face, but I know that means nothing to them. It is one more public slight between Simon and me to fuel their rumors and create more.

"Did you see that? She's left him to go visit her lover. I hear he's a stowaway on board."

"It sounds an awful lot like the affairs of the Admiral's wife. Do you remember that?"

"Yes, and I heard her daughter is going the same way."

"Wasn't the Admiral's daughter close friends with Mrs. Middleton when they were girls?"

"Ah, I see it now. They must have had terrible influences on each other. I feel for their husbands."

I close my ears as best I can, but the roar of gossip always seems deafening, even when I am alone. The deck is nearly deserted, save for a few meandering souls, enjoying the bracing ocean air and the endless cover of stars. It is a beautiful, calming sight, and it's times like this when I wonder why everything matters so much. I am so small, so insignificant in this world; my problems mean nothing when you consider the grand scheme of things.

I rest my gloved arms upon the rail and gaze into the velvety black horizon. I let my mind go blissfully blank for once, relying on the humming motors and churning water to keep me in this state of serenity.

After awhile I vaguely become aware of the feeling that someone is watching me. Then the telltale sign of approaching footsteps gives them away completely. For a brief moment I wildly think it is Simon, perhaps wishing to apologize, or perhaps to scold me for my behavior. But Simon isn't the type to sneak up on someone; in fact, there is only one person I know that is.

"What are you doing here?" I whisper, the wind ripping my words from my lips.

"I could ask you the same thing." He stands next to me at the rail, close enough that I can feel his warmth, a blessing after standing in the cold for so long. We are silent for a long while. My heart has just returned to a normal pace when he speaks again.

"I wasn't sure if I should approach you, but…you were standing for awhile and…You look beautiful, Gemma."

I look up in amazement. It has been very long since I heard that out of someone's mouth, someone who isn't a servant meant to say such things, that is.

Kartik mistakes my surprise as disbelief. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. You're married now."

"No," I say quickly. "It's – I – thank you."

"You're welcome," he says after a long pause. I take a moment to study his face, for I've longed to see him ever since he left. He is paler and his face is a bit thinner, but what stand out to me the most are his eyes. Once full of life and secrets, they are now lackluster and sad, depressed. And it is my fault they are this way. He gave up everything for me and I abandoned him.

I long so badly to pull him into my arms and tell him everything will be okay, I'm with him now, I still love him. But the reality is I belong to another man, not by heart but by law. Kartik is standing right beside me but he has never been further out of my reach. It is no one's fault but my own.

I vaguely become aware of the tears pouring down my cheeks. Kartik is the man I love, the father of my child. He is right here, so what is wrong with me?

Something in his dulled eyes flares to life. "Gemma, is everything…okay with you?"

_Yes. Everything is fine. I am only crying because I am so happy. So happy with my husband and child, which I forgot to mention, is yours. So happy with my life that I must relocate to a foreign country, away from my family and friends, not that they care about me anyway, and away from you, or at least I thought. I never thought I'd see you again, but here you are, but don't worry, you pose no threat to my happy marriage at all. _

I shake my head miserably. "No Kartik," I moan into my hands. "Everything is _not_ okay."

**Aww sad! Poor Gemma and Kartik and... Simon too.**

**Just go read Libba Bray's new LJ post to cheer you up! Lots of adorable Karma moments there!**

**The last one is definitely the cutest,  
LunaEquus**

**(I mean, how adorable is it that Kartik notices those things about Gemma? Sure, it may be an outtake, but Libba probably worked that idea in somewhere else.)**

**Please reviews lots and lots and make me happy after this angsty chapter!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Thanks sooo much for all the reviews! Enjoy!**_  
_

_I shake my head miserably. "No Kartik," I moan into my hands. "Everything is _not_ okay."_

His hand flutters briefly, as if to reach for me, but like a dying bird, it falls still once more. I wonder if that simple gesture failed because of witnesses, or perhaps some other reason. It makes me cry harder, catching the attention of other passengers.

"There, there, madam, we'll find your son," Kartik says, guiding me by the elbow. He squeezes his fingers briefly, a cue for me to act along. Through my despair, I manage to comply.

"He ran away!" I wail.

"Oh dear," an elderly gentleman says, approaching Kartik and me. "Shall I alert the captain?"

Kartik's voice is slightly accented when he speaks. "That won't be necessary, sir, I already have. Please keep an eye out for a small redheaded boy."

The elderly man nods curtly, in a way that suggests a military background. He turns to me, his bushy white brows knitting together in worry. "Madam, where is your husband?"

The question pushes the breath out of my lungs. My corset, too tight as it is from Simon's paranoia, constricts me further as I gasp for breath. There is a ringing in my ears that blocks the concerned voices of Kartik and the elderly man. Darkness meets me before the floor does.

When I come to, I am in my own bed. Clara bustles around, preparing tea and fussing with wet cloths.

"Clara," I say softly. "What happened?" I can feel that my corset has been loosened considerably.

"Oh madam, please lay back down! You must rest!"

"What happened?" I repeat stubbornly.

She folds her hands in submission. "You fainted on deck. Two men helped you to your room." She pauses and shakes her head. "That elderly gentleman kept going on about some little redheaded boy you said you lost. I fear he must have been a bit senile."

I worry the sheets with my restless fingers. A slight crinkling noise comes to my attention and my heart lurches. I reach beneath the sheets and find a small piece of parchment close to my body.

"Thank you, Clara," I blurt out. "I'd like to rest now."

"Yes, madam." She curtsies her way out of the room.

I pull the note out and read it by the dim lamplight.

_Some skeletons are best not kept in the closet. _

I chuckle softly as I glance towards the closet. The door rests slightly ajar. "Then perhaps they should come out," I say. Kartik creeps from behind the door and settles himself in a chair next to the bed. I am happy to see him, but anxious as well. Skeletons will indeed be coming out of the closet tonight.

"I know this is probably a bad idea," he murmurs.

I wave my hand. "You're always welcome," I say, immediately regretting it. I'm just digging myself in deeper.

He watches me closely as I drink my tea, not to quench my thirst, but rather just to have something to occupy my mouth. "Where did it all go wrong?" he whispers.

It sends a chill down my spine. "What do you mean?"

"You seemed so sure of yourself. I thought…"

"What?"

"I thought that no matter what you decided, you'd make the best of it." He gives me a small smile that pains me, for I now realize that he had faith in me, even though I turned my back on him.

I sigh heavily, knowing this is the time I should be telling him about our daughter. I cannot bring myself to do it yet. "Where did you go?" I ask, evading my confession. "I haven't seen you in London…"

He interrupts with a bitter laugh. "Of course you haven't. What sort of society wife hangs around my sort of haunts?"

I ignore the sting. "So you _were _in London?"

"Yes. I couldn't bring myself to leave." I watch him carefully. He runs his fingers through his hair. "But I couldn't bring myself to see you again," he whispers. "I avoided you with every last bit of self control I had."

"But why? I still would have wanted to see you."

He frowns at me. "I suppose I was afraid." His eyes develop an even more faraway look. "I wanted to leave you with the knowledge that you really didn't love him, that you did it just to please your family. I was afraid to see you happy…with him."

"Oh," I breathe. His words strike me with an odd sense of hope, that after all of this, he still loves me like I love him.

"And now…you don't look very happy." Kartik bites his lip. "How is your…child?"

"My real one?" We share a halfhearted smile that quickly fades away. "She is my pride and joy."

Kartik smiles in a charming, bittersweet way. "A daughter," he says fondly. "A new priestess to wreak havoc on this world."

I smile back knowingly. _She is yours you know. _

His face settles back into a blank slate. "It is…so hard," he says uncertainly.

"What is?" I ask, smoothing the bed sheets so that I do not have to look at him.

"Everything," he confesses. I realize that for the first time, he sounds defeated. It scares me to know that even the most seemingly infallible people can fall. "I…"

I look up at the sound of tears in his voice. His eyes are glassy, unfocused.

"Kartik?"

"I was wrong all along. I thought…even without the Rakshana, that I was…better off, in a way. You made me more than ordinary. But then you..." he trails off. "Do you know what it was like for me - to realize that I mean nothing after all? That everything was a delusion?"

A single tear falls down his cheek. Against my better judgment, I reach forward and brush it away, reminiscent of that one Christmas night. "You mean something to me," I murmur. My hand lingers at his face so that he meets my eyes. "You mean _everything _to me."

I want so badly to feel the reassurance of his kiss, warm and sure, upon my lips. My heart beats just a bit faster as I gaze into his dark eyes. He looks away.

"Well it wasn't enough, was it?"

"What?" My voice is a hush.

"Gemma, look at me. I am a deckhand after all. I was never worth enough for you."

"I was afraid. If I had known how things would turn out -,"

"If you had known that life wouldn't be all parties and glamour, you mean. Then you would have gladly run away with me, right?"

My stomach twists unpleasantly. "Don't say things like that."

"It is true."

"It isn't."

He spreads his arms wide. "Then by all means, Gemma, tell me the truth."

The door opens suddenly. Simon stands at the threshold. He takes in the spectacle of us, Kartik sitting with his arms open as I lean out of bed towards him. Simon's mouth opens in shock, and then his blue eyes cloud over with hurt and anger.

I am up out of bed like a shot. "Simon, I can explain -,"

His eyes linger at my torso. My gown is open at the back, thanks to Clara loosening my corset earlier. "No!" I say frantically. "It's not what it seems!"

Simon retreats from the room, slamming the door with all the strength he can muster. Silence rings in his wake, broken distantly by the cries of my daughter, woken up from her innocent sleep. It is all too much to bear. I sink to my knees as fresh tears spring from my eyes.

"Kartik," I say, my voice wavering. "I have so much to tell you."

**Just got back from (a much too short) vacation. I was in Cape Cod, MA with my family. It was...interesting. And now I am sick with a nasty cold. **

**But I still have it better off than Kartik and Gemma. Poor them. However, entertain yourself with the vision of an old man leading a search party for a nonexistant redheaded toddler. **

**Is afraid to sleep because her parents are still in Cape Cod and she's all alone in a big scary house,  
LunaEquus**

**Reviews? They make me work fahhsturr! (That's 'faster' in New England speak!)  
**


	5. Chapter 5

**A quick write...I was bored today and it was cold and rainy. Enjoy.**

"_Kartik," I say, my voice wavering. "I have so much to tell you."_

He is troubled as he helps me to my feet and back to the bed, but he does not speak, which helps matters greatly. Instead, he quietly buttons up my dress again, a gesture so simple and intimate that it brings a fresh wave of misery.

"I was wrong," I sob. "I should have gone with you. It was the worst mistake of my life!" He sits next to me on the bed. "I tried to make it work. I tried to be happy with my decision, to be a good wife for him. He was a good husband."

Kartik's hands ball into fists for a moment.

"He wasn't you," I say softly, reassuringly. "He could never take your place. But at least he was someone I could get along with."

"Then what went wrong?" His voice is quiet.

"The night before my wedding, Kartik. What happened that night?"

When he turns to me I can see more anguish and longing. "Everything happened that night, Gemma! I never knew I could ever feel that way! I – I had my heart set on you," his voice trails to a mere whisper.

I cup his face with my hands. "Kartik…I am so sorry."

"Why couldn't you come away with me?" He tilts his head, pressing his cheek to my hand.

"Shh," I whisper, placing my lips to his briefly. "What _happened_ that night?" He looks into my eyes deeply, searching for the answer he already knows. "There is someone you must meet," I say, rising from the bed.

He follows me silently into the nursery. I am instantly comforted by the hush of the room, the knowledge that my daughter is soundly sleeping. Kartik hovers by the door, afraid to move closer.

"Kartik," I say, lifting my daughter from her bassinette. "Come closer." He moves carefully and soundlessly across the thick carpet until he is by my side. "Would you like to hold your daughter?"

He stares at me as if he hasn't heard correctly. With a smile, I arrange her swaddling cloth so that her tan skin and dark hair are visible. His lips tremble slightly.

"She's…mine?"

"She's _ours_."

A noise comparable to a whimper escapes his mouth. He looks at our daughter in awe and disbelief, and then, so carefully, as if he is afraid she'll break, he reaches out a finger to stroke her plump cheek. My heart sings for the first time in ages.

"Would you like to hold her?" I ask again.

"I – I'm afraid to drop…her."

"Sit," I say, pushing him into the rocking chair with my free hand. I place our daughter into his arms. It is a heartwarming sight, especially as all of the pain is gone from Kartik's face. He is alive again. And I am too.

"She's beautiful," he breathes. "What is her name?"

I kneel next to them. "Victoria Indira."

Kartik catches my eye and smiles. I knew he'd be glad that I gave her an Indian name. "When was she born?"

"February 24th, seven forty-six in the evening."

His smile widens as he fires out more questions. "How much did she weigh?"

"Seven pounds, four ounces."

"Her height?"

"Twenty inches."

"She's absolutely perfect."

"I know," I say softly, resting my head against his arm. This is how it should be, a daughter and her two parents, happy and in love. We rest this way for a long while, enjoying each other's closeness and warmth, until I forget completely that things really aren't how they should be.

Kartik stands a while later and places Victoria back into her bassinette carefully. He gazes at her for a few long moments.

I stand up and stifle a yawn. "Shall we -," I stop.

"Shall we what?" His eyes don't move from the bassinette.

I was about to say, "Shall we go to bed?" but I quickly remembered that he is not my husband. So I lie and cover it up. "Shall we talk more in the other room?"

His face flickers. "I suppose," he says quietly. We return to my bedroom and settle ourselves back as we had been before. Kartik looks troubled. "Does he know?"

"Yes," I say solemnly. "He knew the moment she was born. Everyone did."

He exhales slowly. "And that's when the trouble started."

"Yes."

"Tell me," he says.

I take a deep breath, and then it all comes pouring out. "He was angry for a few weeks. He wouldn't speak to me or remain in the same room as me. But then…he approached me and offered to let it go, if I would give up the child."

Kartik interrupts. "_Give up _the child?"

"For adoption," I explain. "But who would adopt an Indian child?"

"In England? No one."

"Exactly. She would probably have been…" _Thrown into the Thames._ I cannot bring myself to say it, but Kartik knows all the same.

His lips curl into a sneer. "Bastard," he mumbles, referring to Simon.

"I would never give her up and I told him so. Ever since…we have not really been husband and wife."

"I can see that. He treats you terribly."

I sigh. "He doesn't really. You have forgotten how much he cares for me."

"I have not forgotten," Kartik says sourly. "But if he truly cared for you, would he not have forgiven you by now? Surely you have not continued to commit adultery for him to judge you against."

"I haven't," I say softly.

"Well then, he should suck it up and treat his wife properly."

"What are you saying?" I whisper.

He meets my wary gaze. "What are _you _saying?"

What _am _I saying? I never thought that I'd be in this position, on the threshold, literally and figuratively, between two worlds. I cannot quite trust my own decisions at the moment.

I play it safe. "Why are you going to America?"

Kartik is struck by the sudden question. "I work on the ship," he says uncertainly, as if he is questioning it himself. "I really have no choice."

"Nonsense," I say sharply. "Everyone has choices."

"And so do you," he says. "Why are you going to America?"

I swallow hard. "I thought I had no choice."

**A soft little fluffy moment to break the despair... Kartik and his daughter must have been a cuddly sight to behold.**

**Is grateful for all the reviews,  
LunaEquus**

**(Keep 'em coming!)**


	6. Chapter 6

**A quick update, thanks to a sudden burst of free time. Enjoy.**

"It's getting late," Kartik says, standing up.

"Can't you stay?" I whisper. I realize I sound pathetic, but if it will keep me in his company for just a bit longer…

The corners of his mouth twitch upwards, but the hint of a smile does not reach his eyes. "Don't you remember what happened the last time you asked me that?"

How can I forget? I know he means to be chivalrous, to not further complicate matters between Simon and I, but I just cannot have that right now.

"Kartik," I say firmly. "You cannot go."

"Gemma, I - ,"

"Please."

With a heavy sigh, he sits next to me on the bed. "Why do you want me to stay?"

"I need closure."

"Closure? For what?"

"You're acting as if you don't want to be a part of my life anymore." I bury my face into his chest and inhale the warm scent of his body. It's nice to know some things have not changed.

He laughs. "Gemma, must you take everything so seriously? I merely wanted to retire for bed, not leave your life forever."

"Oh." I feel rather silly.

He smiles. "May I go now?"

The idea of him leaving, if only for the night, is painful. I feel as if I might never see him again. I shake my head. "I don't want you to go."

His expression grows somber. "If anyone were to find us…"

"I'd take full responsibility."

"You'd be labeled a whore!"

"I already have been," I say softly. It does the trick. His eyes grow large and pained at this knowledge. I reach over to stroke his cheek. "It's not fair, Kartik," I whisper. "Stay with me."

I watch him closely, recognizing the telltale signs of his battle of wills. He bites the inside of his cheeks, softly when he's thinking and harder when he's tempted to do something he knows is wrong. Our entire history has been filled with these moments, and like almost always, I can tell he is near to drawing blood with the strength of his jaws.

"This is a bad idea," he says, kicking his shoes off.

"We won't do anything wrong," I vow, even though I know that his presence right now is considered by many to be wrong.

"You're damned right we won't."

"What made you change your mind?"

"It's been a year." He gives me a small smile. "I've missed you."

The night before my wedding, I was an emotional wreck. Kartik had crawled in through my window like he had countless times before, and something about the personal knowledge that I'd never see it again and the promise of bittersweet nostalgia sent me off into tears. He had no idea that I was planning to send him off alone and mistook my tears for nerves. He sought to comfort me and I sought to bestow upon him a reserve of affection that I thought was meant only for him.

I do not regret losing my virtue to him. I regret the state of weakness I was in while I decided to give it to him. How could I be so strong to set an entire magical world in order, but so weak that I'd ever think it'd be okay to sleep with a man and send him off with no intentions of ever seeing him again?

"Everyone makes mistakes," Kartik whispers after I confess this to him. With the lights turned out, the darkness has brought a new level of honesty. His breath teases a few loose hairs across the back of my neck.

"You're not mad?"

His grip tightens around my waist. "I should have realized those tears were for something else."

I exhale slowly, feeling relief seep into me. "I'm glad that everything is out in the open then." Against my back, Kartik's body stiffens considerably. "What is it?" I ask, fearing more confessions.

"It…doesn't matter."

"Tell me."

"It's quite silly, childish really. I won't bother you with it."

"You'll bother me more if you don't tell me." He is silent. I dig my fingernails into the hand that rests on my hip. "Kartik!"

"I was only wondering…who was…better?"

"What?"

"Don't be angry."

"I don't know what you're talking about, so how can I be angry?"

"Simon or I - who was better?"

With an unsuppressed giggle, I realize he wants to know whose performance I preferred, _sexually._ "Oh, Kartik," I chide. "If you really must have an evaluation…" I already have the answer. It is something I've dwelled on often, using it to further punish myself for not going away with Kartik. "Simon treated me more as an object than anything else."

"As I knew he would," Kartik grumbles.

"Then why ask, if you already know?"

"I wanted to hear it from you."

"Kartik, you have nothing to be jealous of. I'm not happy with Simon." The dark has made me bold, but it feels good to out with the truth, however frank it may be.

Kartik's lips rest on my bare shoulder. He kisses me slowly, sensuously, drawing forth the long suppressed feeling of excitement in my belly. "Then talk to him, Gemma," he murmurs against my skin.

"What can I tell him?" My hands are restless. I must concentrate to prevent them from wandering off.

"The truth."

"But that's too…" He cuts me off with a kiss.

"You must," he says. He turns over so that his back is to me. "Good night, Gemma."

I could cry. What was all that for then? I settle myself in the warm spot he previously occupied. "Fine then. Good night to you."

It isn't until morning that the guilt hits me. Part of me wonders if it was a dream, but the smarter part knows it wasn't.

It happened in the period between wake and sleep, that fuzzy, dreamy time of consciousness. I'm still not quite sure who started it, but neither of us had the control to stop it. Can I attribute it to weakness? Can I say it was my fault, because I craved physical love? The guilt that I feel is not from the act itself. It was an act of love, and act of need. What makes me feel guilty is that I don't feel bad about it at all, and I know that I should.

**Things are starting to be set in motion. Don't be so sure if you think you know what's going to happen. I may just surprise you!**

**Yes, they did it. **

**Thinks it's time to throw Simon a frickin' bone,  
LunaEquus**

**(Reviews are nice. What girl doesn't like nice things?)  
**


	7. Chapter 7

**Quick update. Want to finish this story before I update any others. Enjoy!**

Following Kartik's suggestion, I arrange an in-room breakfast to give me a chance to speak with Simon. I dress in my prettiest morning-appropriate gown, a high-waisted frock of the palest blue. When Simon arrives, I can see his eyes linger on me briefly, a hint of longing reflected in blue.

We take our seats across from each other and allow Clara to fill our cups with tea. I dismiss her shortly after, much to Simon's surprise.

"What's this about, Gemma?" he asks suspiciously.

I am not in the mood for tension. Last night's events have left me feeling refreshed and I do not wish the afterglow to leave me so soon. "Marmalade?" I ask cheerily.

"Yes, thank you." We eat in silence for a few moments while I gather my thoughts. I figure honesty is the best way to go.

"Simon, our marriage is in ruins." He looks up at me in surprise. "There is no use denying it. We are a mockery of society." He opens his mouth, but I hold up a hand to silence him. "Before you say it was all my fault, let me remind you that I did try to repair things."

His expression turns to anger. "When did you try to repair things?"

"All along, but you wanted to have no part of me, especially after I refused to give up Victoria."

"You expect me to play father to a bastard child?"

I spoon sugar into my tea calmly. "If you truly cared for me, you would." I gaze into his eyes. "Simon, we had already been through the initial stage of shame and anger. I had made a mistake and was sorry for it. You never wanted to forgive me."

"Why did you sleep with him in the first place?" He tears his eyes from mine and concentrates on buttering a piece of toasted bread.

"I loved Kartik. I still do."

Simon's fist comes down roughly onto the table. "So you're telling me…you never even loved me in the first place?"

"Not like I love him."

He drops his head to his hands. "I tried so hard to make you happy, Gemma." His voice is strangled. It tears at my heart.

I lay a hand on his shoulder. "But not when it mattered, Simon. You abandoned me when I needed someone the most," I whisper.

"I am sorry, Gemma, but I couldn't deal with it at the time. You committed adultery!"

"Ah, another misconception. I slept with Kartik before I married you," I say quietly. "Once we said our vows, I was determined to remain faithful to you. But your negligence has made that very hard."

He frowns. "What are you getting at?"

"Last night. I welcomed Kartik back into my bed once more."

To my great surprise, Simon doesn't flinch. "I knew you would," he says hatefully.

I lean forward slightly. "Then why didn't you try to stop it?" I ask softly. I shake my head. "Simon, this is why our marriage cannot work." A part of me still hurts as I say this, but I cannot be a part of this tangle of lies anymore. "It is a blessing that we are nearing America. You can leave me in peace as you planned."

His eyes widen in disbelief. "What are you talking about?"

I falter. "You…I heard from Clara that…"

He sighs heavily. "Gemma, I was never planning on leaving you."

"You weren't?"

"No."

"Then why are we going to the New World?"

"So that we can start over _together_."

"Oh," I say softly. The last of my afterglow leaves me.

Simon laughs weakly. "Gemma, do you mean to tell me that all this time you thought I was going to divorce you?" I nod meekly. "Well, that would explain a lot." He pauses for a moment. "Would you have slept with him last night if you thought otherwise?"

The blunt question throws me off my guard. I am not used to such straightforward questions from Simon. The answer is hard to come by. Would I have asked Kartik to stay if I thought I'd remain a married woman? I close my eyes briefly to recall the night's events and how happy I felt when we were with Victoria, how he made me felt, so warm and secure. And the sinful act itself…it felt so _right._

I open my eyes and see Simon's face, handsome and expectant. I do not feel any longing when I look at him. I never had. My love for him extends to the familiarity of my life as his wife. Choosing him, I got to keep my family, my usual lifestyle. But now my life has changed, and my family is ashamed of me. I've had my answer before any of this ever happened, before my daughter's birth, even before my marriage.

"Yes," I say. " I would have."

Simon doesn't speak for a moment. To my surprise, he smiles. "Well then, I should probably contact our lawyer and make arrangements for divorce."

My mouth hangs open slightly. "You're not angry?" I ask incredulously.

"Well I am disappointed, and I've been heartbroken for awhile, but I'm a big lad and I can cope with it." He cups my face in his hand. "What settles it is…I haven't seen you this sure of yourself in a long time. And as much as it pains me…I suppose I'd rather you be happy with someone else than miserable with me."

"Oh Simon," I murmur. "Thank you."

He holds up a hand. "I will not support you though. You will have to rely on _him_ for that."

"But my own inheritance…"

"Will be returned to you, of course. And you must take custody of the child."

"Of course," I say with a serene smile.

He grimaces slightly and leans in with a wicked smile. "Or, if you'd prefer, we can bypass all of that."

"Oh?"

"I've known many to take advantage of Ellis Island to reinvent themselves."

It is an appealing thought. I can take on a new identity, with Kartik as my rightful husband. The Americans are not nearly as strict about race. "You could return to England, Simon," I say softly.

He catches on. "And your cause of death?"

I smile at the irony. "Cholera."

**Simon's an easy going fellow. Okay, so perhaps this wasn't a shocker as I teased it might be, but oh well. I'm happy with it. An epilogue will follow.**

**Oh, and the irony of cholera - it was the same lie told to cover up Mrs. Doyle's death. It's ending Gemma's identity as a member of English high society. Okay, maybe not very ironic, but whatever.**

**Super excited about my spiffy new desk lamp,  
LunaEquus**

**Reviews? How many of you hate this ending? Like, I said, there's an epilogue. Cheers.  
**


	8. Epilogue

**Yay Epilogue! Thank you so much for all the reviews so far! This was a fun story to write. Enjoy!**

A few months have passed since the _RMS Umbria_ left England to send me hurtling into a vast ocean of change. I'll start with our arrival at Ellis Island. It was a tricky business for Simon to convince the officials of my death by cholera aboard the ship, as there were no records to be found. However, a few slipped pound notes did the trick as he later informed me with a wink.

Kartik and I were surprisingly an easier deception to pull off. Our remaining time on the ship had provided us ample time to recreate our past together. Unfortunately, that meant wiping out all signs of gypsies and evil sorceresses, but in our case truth would earn us each an X circled in chalk by the medical officials, because certainly such poppycock is a sign of mental disease.

So our past is plausible but rather dull. Our fathers were both wealthy businessmen and friends that often worked together to cut major deals. After a particularly profitable partnership was attained overseas, a party was held in celebration, Kartik and I met, and the rest was history. Oh yes, and Kartik was also born a Christian, thanks to the wonders of English colonization in India. Needless to say, he had a bit of trouble keeping a straight face telling that lie.

It is with great pride that Kartik and I are finally recognized as husband and wife, by law, and that Simon and I are, also by law, not. But Simon is not gone from my life for good. He remained in the City of New York for a few weeks after our arrival and saw to it that I received my inheritance and was settled. Now that he has returned to England, he still sends me the odd letter of this and that every once in a while. He has most recently written that Felicity does not believe in my death at all and regularly bombards him with questions about my whereabouts. I am still deciding if I should send her my new address.

Kartik and I let a fine apartment in Midtown Manhattan, a section of the city quite similar to London. It is comfortable, though quite noisy at all times of the day. I have the most trouble getting Victoria settled down to sleep, but that is in part due to the sharp new teeth tearing through her gums. It is a blessing that Kartik and I get any sleep at all.

Despite the noise and considerable pollution, New York City has earned it's respectable title as part of the New World. America is much more relaxed than England, whether it is fashion, high society or even the treatment of immigrants. In England, the best job Kartik could hope to attain despite his education would probably be as some third class worker, in a factory or on a ship. Here, his knack for languages has earned him a respectable spot working within a foreign embassy.

As for myself, I am no longer content to sit around doing nothing, especially as there are no longer any social calls to make or receive. I have been writing a lot, about my past and all of my experiences. I had been recalling the day I first met Simon Middleton, when I remembered something my brother once said.

"_Ah, yes. The famous Doyle imagination. She's likely to become a writer of mystery novels, our Gemma."_

And it hits me – why shouldn't I? I certainly have enough mystery in my past to write about. The idea of becoming a published writer thrills me. I wait until Kartik returns home from work and pulls off his hat and scarf before I bombard him. I speak in an excited hush, for I had spent the better part of the afternoon putting our daughter to bed.

"Kartik, I've a marvelous idea!"

He bends to kiss me first before he responds. "Does it involve my wife in naughty lingerie?" he asks with a wicked smile.

"Well, I suppose it can, but that's not my point."

"Right then, what is your point?"

I wrap my arms around his neck. "I am going to be a writer."

He pretends to consider this as a bad idea. "I don't know, Gemma. Aren't authors supposed to have lived fascinating lives in which to base their fiction off of? I rather think you are too dull for that."

I play along. "Well I've taken that into consideration and I've decided to write under a different persona, so no one knows that I am really just a boring girl with a boring husband."

"So what shall the publishers say about the author then?"

"I am a forty-two year old spinster living in a penthouse with my thirteen cats."

"Thirteen? Isn't that bad luck?"

I wink at him. "I like to live life on the edge."

He laughs. "Of course you do."

I fiddle with the buttons on his starched white shirt, pulling open a few to reveal a delicious spot of skin to kiss. "Victoria's asleep," I murmur. I can taste a hint of soap from his morning shower. "What were you saying about your wife in lingerie before?"

"Mmm." He reaches for his hat again and places a finger to my lips. "Hold that thought, darling. I've just remembered something I must do." And before I can protest, perhaps show him a little leg to change his mind, he is out the door.

It isn't long before Kartik returns, this time carrying a rather large box in his arms.

"What is this?" I ask, standing to fix the hat that threatens to fall over his face.

He smiles widely. "I got you a present." He sets the box on the table. "Open it."

I pull open the flaps to reveal a shiny black typewriter. "Oh Kartik, you didn't!"

"Oh Gemma, I did."

I run a finger over the brass keys. "Darling…thank you so much." I cup his face in my hands and kiss him. "This means the world to me."

"Then you deserve it," he whispers, returning my kisses. "So." He spins me around. "I have my wife…but is she wearing any naughty lingerie?" He reaches for the sash of my dress.

I swat his hand away playfully. "Now, now, Kartik, you're just going to have to wait. I have a new toy to play with."

He sighs dramatically. "Oh, the sacrifices we must make for love." Like a good sport, he helps me set up the typewriter at the desk by the window overlooking the street. Just as I sit down, Victoria wakes up. Her shrill cries fill the apartment. Kartik squeezes my shoulder. "I'll take care of it, darling."

"Thank you," I say gratefully, tilting my head to receive another kiss. I run a sheet of paper through the machine as per the instruction manual says, and place my fingers on the keys. Nothing comes.

With a sigh, I gaze out the window onto the street below. People amble by, passed by bicycles and horses alike. It is nearing autumn now, and the trees are a vivid canvas of golds and reds. Fall has also been a special time for me, a time of memory and reflection. I recall the days when I was at Spence, running through the changing forest with Felicity, Ann, and Pippa, how I'd always secretly hope to bump into a certain Indian boy with a makeshift cricket bat. I suppose I never once imagined I'd ever end up married to him, but now that I am, I'd never wish for it to be any other way.

I have not seen my friends in many months, years even. I know that Pippa is no longer a worry; she has crossed over like she needed to, and that is all I could have ever prayed for. But Ann and Felicity… I do not know how they are. They could be alright, or they could be miserable, but either way, I'd never know.

For so long I've been preoccupied with my own life, as I had right to, but now there is no valid reason why I shouldn't care about their lives.

"Writer's block already, Gemma?" Kartik stands in the doorway, Victoria babbling away happily in his arms.

"I'm just thinking," I say, smiling. He nods and walks back into the nursery.

I turn my attention once more to the street below. A girl is selling small bundles of tiny white flowers to passersby. Lilies of the Valley – the return of happiness. My smile widens as I begin typing.

_Dear Felicity…_

I have returned to happiness and I'd really like to take my friends with me.

**Finite. I liked this ending. I thought it was cute. Your thoughts?**

Now plays Guitar Hero on expert,  
LunaEquus

**(Alright, only some songs, but still. Expert is expert!)**


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